Seeing is Believing
by justreadme
Summary: Edward gets an eyeful when forced to share a room with adopted brother Emmett. You know you want to know what he sees...


This tiny little gem was inspired by a pic on the Perv Pack's Smut Shack. It is a pic of a gorgeous young stud laying on a bed in tiny green underwear. Yum. Beta's by the lovely Harrytwifan. She fixed my commas and sorted out my mistakes, but then of course I had to play with the document when I got it back so all the mistakes are mine. I hope you like the result of said inspiration.

Leave some love if you do. Love makes me want to write lemons. When life gives you lemons, you're a lucky, lucky girl.

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><p>He doesn't know I'm watching. If he did, he would kick my ass. He is my adopted brother; my straight adopted brother if the porn on his computer is any indication. We normally have our own room, but we are on a trip with dad to some business conference he had to go to. Dad didn't want to leave two teenage boys home alone so he brought us along and figured we could hang around in the pool while he worked. He put Emmett and me in the same hotel room. It is annoying to Emmett, but torture for me.<p>

Emmett has just come back from his shower wearing only a gorgeous pair of green y-fronts. That's it, just y-fronts. He thinks I'm sleeping and I let him. He lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling. It starts with his hands rubbing on the comforter, and then they are on his chest, his fingers lightly grazing his nipples; back and forth until each is a tight little nub. His hands start to slide ever so slowly down his beautiful abdominal muscles lightly outlining each one. My mouth waters as my tongue longs to run that path. I am so jealous of his fingers. I keep perfectly still and monitor my breathing, keeping it slow and deep. I need him to think I am still asleep. As I watch, his fingers make several passes across his broad chest and ripped abs as he mulls over whatever visual is playing in his mind. I notice his bulge grow in his shorts.

His fingers start tracing the waistband like he is trying to talk himself out of masturbating. Oh god, how I want to watch him. I should be embarrassed but I am far too turned on to care. I am just thankful that I am lying on my stomach so my body won't give me away. He must have made his decision because his pinky finger sneaks under the elastic band, quickly followed by its friends, until he has fully grasped his now erect cock in his hand. My breath hitches as I somehow manage not to moan. I pretend to be dreaming and sigh quietly to relieve some of the tension I have building inside me. I hear him pause and I quickly close my eyes to keep up my pretense of sleeping. He must fall for it because I hear the movement pick back up. Slowly, I allow my eyes to open and I take in the sight before me. His fist is leisurely but steadily stroking his cock and his eyes are closed to the pleasure. He is so beautiful in the throes of passion, even if he is by himself.

He is starting to get really into it now as his hips lift off of the bed and his free hand works to slide his y-fronts down and off of his straining erection. He hooks the elastic under his balls and continues to stroke. The elastic pushing up on his balls is a sight for my eyes. My mouth waters with the need to suck on each one, massaging it with my tongue. I want to run my tongue up that big sexy cock and lap up the moisture that is surely forming there. I find myself tightening my fingers into the sheet with the effort of not jumping on him. Fuck, he would probably kill me if I were to touch him in a sexual way. I haven't told him I'm gay, and I'm quite certain he wouldn't be accepting of my orientation. This thought should turn me off, but when a boy as sexy and beautiful as Emmett is within your sights, how could you possibly be turned off? His body is glistening with sweat as he works himself. It only accents the muscles and lines of his body. Emmett is like a sculpted work of art. There is no denying the exquisiteness of his skin. Oh how I want to touch it, to taste it, to feel it writhe under me or over me; I don't care which.

His hips are pumping with his hand now and he is moaning ever so softly. His noises are delicious. How I wish I was the cause of his ecstasy. His hand speeds up and at some point he must have spit on it because I can hear the moisture as his hand grips and rotates over the head of his cock. His other hand reaches down to those tasty-looking balls and tugs and fondles and pets them. Fuck, I want that. My body starts an unconscious grind into the mattress. I am practically shaking with desire. I hope he can't hear me, but I am close to not caring. This is too fucking hot and I can barely restrain from taking my own self into hand. The need to stay quiet so I can see the happy ending is the only thing keeping my hand from my dick.

He must be getting close because he is panting and writhing in pleasure. He has sweat pooling in the valleys between his muscles. His rhythm is starting to fall off and he is becoming more forceful with his balls. All the sudden the moment I have been waiting for arrives. His hips launch off the bed and he comes so hard it shoots over his head. The only thing more astonishing than the splendor of his cum face is the word he said as he came.

As he came he said, "Edward."


End file.
